
Ode to 

The Russian People 



JOHN WILLIAM SCROLL 




ISOO 

Class __J^S_i51l_ 

Book _X.31.Q^ 

Gopyii^tr* 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 



ODE TO THE 
RUSSIAN PEOPLE 

BY 

JOHN WILLIAM SCHOLL 

Author of "The Light-Bearer of Liberty^ and other 
poems" "Social Tragedies, and other verse," etc. 




BOSTON 

The Poet Lore Company 

Publishers 

1907 



Copyright 1907 by John William Scholl 



All Rights Reserved 



jUBgARYofCONSRESsI 
I Two Copies Received | 

1 MAh 8 190^ 

L Cooyrletit Entry 

cuss ^ XXcf, No. 
'COPY B. / 



r 5 3^37 



The Gorham Press, Boston 



Shall we whose fathers bravely fought and well 
To make our Freemen's heritage secure. 
Shall we, the sons of Freedom's lineage pure. 

Hedged in with good dear-bought by those that fell, 

Forget in ease and comfort those that dwell 
In harsher bonds and harder to endure? 
Alas, we cannot reach a hand to cure 

The crying evil or the curse dispel! 

But we whose money-bags are loosed to send 
Quick comfort round the world to human need 
When earthquake, famine, fire, or flood has 
wrought. 
Shall we not loose our heart-strings, nobly spend 
The hoarded sympathy and cry ' God speed 

When men grow free whom our example taught? 



ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 

1 

God's march across the ages 

Is sometimes marked with blood. 

Where righteous battle rages 

For Freedom and the Right, 

There God stands in His might 
To bless the purple flood. 



II 

Whilom a figure rose 

Colossal mid the snows 

With scepter and crown 

Of old renown, 

And ruled a mighty realm 

With counsels firm and iron hand 

No subject millions could overwhelm. 

Nor yet withstand, 

But they fell on their knees and worshiped rather 

The crook that guided, the rod that smote. 

And gathered from conquered lands remote 

To kiss the hand of their 'little Father' 

In loyal love. 

All lords above, 

God's vicar absolute, 



6 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 

Resistless to do his people good, 

And strong in good repute 

To save the multitude 

From barren dreams and wild desires, — 

The fatal madness that aspires 

To grasp the wheel of its own fate 

And guide the storm-tossed Ship of State, — 

The nations, gazing from afar. 

Hailed him with one accord the Great White Czar. 

HI 

A challenge came to all the world : 

Let your battle-flags be furled. 
Stop your cannon's brutal thunder 
And undo the fatal blunder 
Of the sword's supreme appeal. 
Justice stronger is than steel 
To protect the commonweal. 
Trust is more than thickest armor, 
Truth than sharp diplomacy. 
Let our peoples' love grow warmer, 
Knit by noble courtesy. 
Cast aside your armaments, 
Meet in solemn parliaments. 



ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 

And war shall cease, 

And olive-branched peace 

Shall wing her blessings over all the lands; 

For every throne that lofty stands 

On piles of human skulls 

Must totter and fall at last 

When the God of hosts annuls 

Its charter with trumpet blast." 

So spake the Great White Czar. 

The nations heard afar, 

And good men dreamed that the hour had come 

To muffle the turbulent, jubilant drum, 

To forge all swords into pruning-hooks. 

To fashion spears into shepherds' crooks, 

Remand the warrior to the fields 

Where honest toil to the eater yields 

Life-giving bread 

And not death's harvest red. 

And seers unrolled the splendid vision 
Of worlds redeemed beneath the banner 
Of him who stood in the snows 
Colossal and white 
With imperial might 
And godlike manner, 



ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 

With a will to conquer indecision 
And bring the burdened world repose. 

And poets sang the destiny 

Of the young-old land beyond the sea, — 

The land of the never-backward step, 

Whose will, from age to age the same, 

In high, imperial aim. 

Had balked at naught. 

But ever onward kept 

And bravely wrought 

Or doggedly waited 

Until the enemy's strength abated. 

And the onward movement, fated 

As her world-historic role. 

Brought her nearer to the goal, 

Nearer to the midland seas, 

Nearer to the southern ocean. 

Nearer to the vast Pacific, 

Whither, with splendor and pomp magnific, 

In prescient hope and high devotion. 

She sought on open port, 

A friendly beckoning resort, 

Wide-armed for her burdened argosies, 

That her land-locked people might be free 

To share in perpetuity 



ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 

The fruits of peace 

Whose blessings never cease. 

And statesmen, far-seeing, wise, 

Men of high emprise. 

Heard the challenge of peace 

From their mighty neighbor. 

And gladly joined in the blessed labor 

Of men's release. 

Only the demon of distrust 

Grinned at the shapes of the beautiful dream, 

As sceptic demons ever must 

In the face of the good supreme. 



IV 

'Tis the Ideal, 
Not the Real, 

Rules the w^orld. 
By the Ideal, 
Not the Real, 

Are Zeus' lightnings hurled. 

The people's dream. 
The people's will, 



10 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 

Are the law supreme 
And shall be still 
With gathering strength 
Throughout the length 
Of every land, 
Till the besom of doom 
In God's right hand, 
Like the dread simoom 
On Afric's strand. 
Shall sweep His handiwork away 
I^^To the consuming fires of the last great day. 

Enthroned in the consenting heart 
Of a hundred million men, 
Incarnate will of the citizen 
And symbol of justice and power. 
Of purity in temple and mart. 
Of wisdom in council and cabinet. 
The ruler stands an impregnable tower, 
With never a cannon or bayonet; 
But, armed with exile and the knout. 
Preserved by ikons and amulets, 
And safely hedged all round about 
With Cossack sabers and bayonets, 
Intrenched in formal power, 
The Past's unquestioned dower, 



ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE ii 

The sceptered autocrat 
Is reft of glory and shorn of strength 
When his subject milhons behold at length 
In him the oligarch's pliant tool, 
The royal cat's-paw of misrule, 
The symbol of robbery and death. 
Of darkness and famine and evil fame. 
Of bloody horrors without a name 
That nations point the finger at 
And hold their breath. 

The stable throne 
Is based alone 

On perfect trust. 
Only his reign 
Can long remain 

Whose rule is just. 



How are the mighty falling! 

A crowned anachronism 

Is brought before Time's judgment bar. 

A lingering Christian despotism. 

The last and most appalling, 



12 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 

Is tried at length by fire 

And stands convicted of the mad desire 

Of lawless conquest and unholy war. 

A nation's truth and honor plighted, 

By greed and mad ambition blighted, 

Has opened eyes to see and know 

Her pride brought low 

In splendid woe; 

For the figure that whilom rose 

Majestic mid the snows 

And wore a crown 

Of old renown 

Has forfeited his good repute 

And stands a beggar destitute, 

Still crowned in awful irony, 

But weak and fearful as a frightened child 

That looks into the darkness with the wild 

Wide eyes of sightless speechless fear, 

Foreboding still some evil near. 

What subtle mockery 

Of power imperial ! 

What better is a crown than cap and bells 

When royal will dwells not below ? 

What fatal lies the ermine tells 

Whose ample snow 

Enwraps within its costly folds 



ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 13 

The cowering form of one that holds 

A scepter aimless, 

With nerveless hand though blameless! 

When Caesar's throne is the symbol of greed 

And not of help in utmost need, 

Of gloom funereal 

And not of life and freshening light 

That lead men out of death and night, 

No magic word nor mystic rite 

Can force due reverence. 

The lie, the weakness, and the fear, 

The want of heart and honest sense, 

The cowardly semblance of reform, 

The temporizing with the storm, 

Are swift forerunners of the world's cold sneer. 

Mad business this to let an empire's reins 

Slip to the hands of reckless dukes 

Who rule or ruin for golden gains. 

Such deeds invite the mamelukes 

To sweep their masters from the throne of statete. 

And found new dynasties wth the consent of fate 

What boots an open sea 

When bought with perjury ? 

What boots a wide domain, 

Where fear alone can long maintain 

A barren and inglorious reign ? 



14 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 

Not lands, but men, true men, 

The patriot wise, the clear-eyed citizen. 

Can make a nation great 

And stay the hand of fate. 

When foes are at the gate. 

How are the mighty falling! 

O crowned anachronism. 

Most Christian despotism, 

Thy fate is most appalling! 

Dishonored at Time's judgment bar, 

Guilty of lawless and unholy war. 

Bankrupt in heart, and whelmed with fatal care. 

Defeated, driven to despair,— 

The nations look on from afar 

And hail no more the Great White Czar. 



VI 



O patriot people, thy hour is come! 

The autumn to thy blood-sown fields 

A late but precious harvest yields. 

Your hands with bootless toil are numb. 

Your bruised hearts ache with the nameless woe 

Of beasts o'erdriven that know not why 

They waste beneath the lash and die; 



ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 15 

Yet rise, O burdened people, show 

Thy prophet voices are not unheard, 

Unheeded the new heroic word 

That rings and sings throughout the land! 

O people of the Untried Dream, 

Our hopes and prayers are with the band 

Of stalwart heroes that withstand 

The onward current of ancient wrong, 

And swear that it shall not prolong 

Its curse beyond this hour supreme. 

Thy dream is worthy, O patient race. 

Beware, lest patience dream too long 

Until the precious hours of grace 

Are gone forever! Rise! Be strong! 

Pluck now the fruits of strength and live. 

No Caesar ever deigned to give 

His subjects freedom. Ye cannot kneel 

Before the anointed tyrant's throne 

And win your rights by meek appeal. 

The answer is ever lead and steel. 

Ye cannot sit and sigh or moan 

O'er wrongs endured or rights denied, 

And hope that Caesar will e'er disown 

A single act once ratified, 

For sympathy 

With moaning misery. 



i6 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 

The world can hear you and sympathize, 

But Caesar cannot hear your cries. 

A ducal chorus about the throne 

With greedy clamors drowns your moan. 

Lie not supine, 

But rise at length 

In manhood's conscious strength, 

And scale the heaven of your own desires. 

To fetch true manhood's purest fires 

From altars of liberty divine, 

To light your glorious path 

Out of this labyrinth of night and woe. 

That with just and guiltless wrath 

And without ignoble scath 

You may strike the fated blow. 

Be one, O mighty people, one, 

In heart and hope and purpose one, 

And wrest your rights with stainless hands! 

Be one! Be strong! Your right hands clasp 

In Freedom's glorious brotherhood 

Which tyrants never yet withstood! 

Be one! Be strong! For want of unity 

Hath ever been your tyrant's opportunity. 

And if your new-found liberty 

Is ever wrested from your grasp, 



ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 17 

Twill be alone when mad Disunion 
With Faction in unblest communion 
Shall call some mighty man of destiny 
To spur his charger through your futile ranks 
And tread you down to abject slavery. 
Be one, O mighty people, one! 
Be strong to smite, but wise to shun 
The errors of an earlier time, 
The madness of a southern clime. 
From Caesar's shipwreck seize the scattered planks 
And build anew your ship of state. 
And pilot her through rocks and shoals 
To stormless havens! He whose arm controls 
All fates, shall make and keep your nation great. 



VH 

What constitutes a state ? 

A grand monarque and a Richelieu, 
And ranks oi grands and cardinals, too, 
A court of flattering parvenus. 
The struggling tiers itat suppressed. 
And the people, a patient ass, oppressed 
With the triple load, king, baron, and priest ? 

These constitute a state ? 



1 8 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 

What constitutes a state ? 

An imbecile king and a cabinet, 

A House of Lords and a Royal Gazette, 

A rotten Commons, — a cringing set, — 

Church tithes and war taxes, a constitution, — 

An undigested divine confusion, — 

And human rights a d d illusion ? 

These constitute a state ? 

What constitutes a state ? 

An ocean of madness loosed and surging, 
The Darkness out of his deeps emerging, 
The brute red hand at the task of purging, 
And silks and laces, the thing unclean. 
And Freedom a god with rites obscene, 
The spouse of Freedom the guillotine ? 

These constitute a state ? 

What constitutes a state ? 

A faded parchment a century old, 

The names of patriot dead enrolled, 

A Fourth of July and omnipotent gold. 

Old Glory, and hunger, the clamoring masses, 

'One man, one vote,' and the warring of classes, 

And bosses to muzzle and drive the asses ? 

These constitute a state ? 



ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 19 

What constitutes a state ? 

' Tis a bough of the world-old Igdrasil 

With the sap of the ages a-flowing still, 

And budding in wisdom and blooming in will, 

And fruiting in deeds of the mighty and wise, 

With a shadow as broad as the wide blue skies, 

Where worth from unworth may struggle and rise. 

This constitutes a state. 

What constitutes a state ? 

O never a God- or man-made thing 
Come forth out of night at a single spring, 
And naught can stifle its bourgeoning. 
And what though the ancient branches die 
And crash as the whirlwind fates speed by ? 
There are new buds shooting up nearer the sky. 

This constitutes a state. 



VIII 

In whose will doth the state reside ? 
In whose might doth the law abide ? 

In his, who by the accident 
Of royal birth and mute consent 



20 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 

All private wills doth override ? 

God's ban is on the imperial race. 

No royal dream nor proud ukase 

Can set at naught the primal law 

That great men dwindle in their sons 

And perish in the third degree 

Of their depraved posterity: 

That genius through swift cycles runs 

From wretched hovel and bed of straw 

To palace and throne, to purple and power, 

Then back again in evil hour 

To hide its shamed gentility 

In rags and deep humility. 

'Twas ever thus that men grew free. 

For they who strive to contravene 

Life's surging from its mystic deeps, 

Its ebbing unto levels mean 

Are like King Knut beside the sea 

Who bade the tides no farther creep. 

Or doth the imperial will alone 

Its mandates and decrees make known 

By popular majorities ? 

Ten thousand peasants, dull, oppressed, 

On whom the empire's burdens rest, 

Who look with resignation dull. 



ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 21 

Upon their birthright void and null, 
In whom the genius of their race 
No spark of aspiration laid, 
But like dumb cattle dully made 
Each like to each, without a trace 
Of selfhood human and distinct. 
Of reason with the great gods linked. 
Can these ten thousand sightless pawns 
For whom no fated vision dawns, 
Can these be God's authorities. 
The faithful over a few things 
Held worthy of the throne of kings ? 

One mighty heart is more than they. 
One prophet soul doth all outweigh. 
For he shall rule who hath the power 
To guide his flock and not devour. 

In whose will doth the state abide ? 
In whose might doth the law reside ? 

In theirs who dare to conquer and reign, 
The mighty synod of heart and brain 
Whose labors still the state maintain, 
The host of spirits choice and brave 
Who ride today the crest of the wave, 



22 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 

Tossed up by the heaving of the main 
No special order of wealth or birth 
In fixed caste shall rule the earth, 
But they who scorning meaner things 
Give transient deeds immortal wings, 
Anointed daysmen of the King of kings. 

How hath the state solidity ? 
How hath the law validity ? 

By virtue of Cossack sabre-stroke, 

Siberian exile, noisome choke 

Of prison mines ? Or all the terrors 

That sceptered might is armed withal ? 

Or must perforce all men obey 

Because the good and just hold sway ? 

'Twere doubly blest, O poor oppressed, 

To live and die at their behest, 

To bear the petty burden of their errors 

And share the ample life they bring to all. 

And yet the God of nations is a god of hosts. 

His care is ever for the multitude. 

From these by devious ways scarce understood, 

At times that baffle human reckoning, 

He raises prophet, statesman, priest, or king, 



ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 23 

As seemeth best. And when these leave their 

posts, 
Not wholly worthy of His awful trusts, 
With silent hand and swift He surely thrusts 
The faithless stewards from their lofty seats, 
And raises men of low degree 
To rule His people and to set them free. 
Thus evermore God's hand repeats 
The miracle of human destiny. 

The multitude is God's great surging sea, 
His reservoir of spirit energy. 
From which the nations' destinies arise. 
And whoso strives to muffle the dull cries 
Of peasant millions, or the workshop's hordes, 
Is striving 'gainst his own foredoomed lords, 
To shut the living God from history. 

The welfare of His millions is God's test of states. 
And bursting bombs and swift death-dealing blows, 
His rude and bloody vengement when unblessed 

fates 
His cloud of witnesses have crushed to brute repose. 



24 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 

IX 

Too bitter and too long 

The deep ancestral wrong, 

Too halting and too late 

The scheme to palliate, 

And stay the hand of sullen hate. 

No flood e'er burst its dam 

With current calm and undisturbed, 

But seething and roaring. 

In cataracts pouring. 

It sweeps down the valley 

With might resistless 

Till by its own ruin balked and curbed; 

E'en then but a moment listless 

It leaps again with mighty rally 

And plows through the jam 

Till far down the plain 

It gathers again 

And flows no longer errant, 

But forms a majestic current, 

Whose broad unruffled bosom bears 

In mirrored beauty through prospering airs 

A hundred freighted argosies 

In safety to the quiet seas. 



ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 25 

Build the dam of your despotism 

As deep and broad as you may, 

The human floods will o'ertop it quite 

And plunge it down in an hour of fright. 

Though built, O Caesar, to stand for aye. 

Some day must see the cataclysm. 

The office of light is to shine. 

'Tis vain that you draw a line 

And say: "Within this bound 

Darkness shall dwell," while all around 

The dawn is rising clear and white. 

'Tis vain you decree an endless night 

When light reflected from a thousand peaks 

Is streaming in your valleys low, 

And all the heavens with their gorgeous streaks 

Bid darkness and the deeds of darkness go. 

The office of thought is to leap 

From brain to brain, from soul to soul, 

Its unseen silent pace to keep 

Until it has leavened the whole. 

'Tis vain that you draw a line 

And say: "Thus far the divine 

Promethean fire shall kindle, 

And beyond its flame shall dwindle 



26 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 

And cease at last to burn, 

And men to beasts return." 

For heavenly fire is never quenched 

When kindled in one patriot soul, 

Though limb from limb is rudely wrenched 

And martyr fires consume him 

Or hurled stones entomb him. 

The end may be far. 

But fixed as a star 

Is the far-seen goal; — 

Freedom without a flaw, 

Freedom girded with law. 

Too bitter and too long 

Is the deep ancestral wrong. 

Horror shall rear her Cimmerian brood, 

But out of horror shall come forth good. 

Then welcome the gory flood! 

Welcome the deluge of blood, 

When Madness makes a way 

For Freedom's glorious day! 

Too little faith have we who shrink 

From plunging when we reach the brink, 

Thoucrh knowings that the farther shore 

Shall know such horrors nevermore. 

Welcome the deluge, if it come! 



ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 27 

Shout for Victory! Be not dumb! 
Pray to the God of life and Hght 
For Victory to the Rioht! ' iJ 

P 

m 

X 

For whose glory will you fight, 

O lerjons of St. Peter's land ? 

For the People ? For the Right ? 

Or that oligarchic band 

That overwhelm 

Your sacred realm ? 

What victor's crown, 

What fair renown 
Is won by shooting brethren down ? 

Make firm the tyrant's rule, 

And be his bloody tool, 

And then his suppliant fool. 

When all too late the firm-wrought chain 

Hath rendered ^very struggle vain. 

He stalks in martial pride along your lines 

And smiles his royal thanks. 

And holds before your serried ranks 



28 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 

His infant heir to serve his deep designs. 

A little child should stir men unto peace, 

To love and love's increase, 

And not to fratricidal war. 

Is it a thing to battle for, 

That a Romanoff smiled, 

And a little child 

Looked v^ide-eyed wonder as you passed .'' 

Would that the Rubicon were crossed, the die 

were cast! 
O that you felt for one brief hour 
That Russia's welfare, Russia's power 
Is something nobler than a Romanoff's dower! 

But woe to her children, and woe to her lords. 
When Russia's scourged by her Cossack hordes, 
Who, faithful to bloodshed and horrors alone. 
Would slaughter their kinsmen to strengthen a 
throne. 

Sad fate theirs to do and die 

Nameless and fameless. 
Sternly their trade to ply, 

Warring so shameless. 

O that their story 



ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 29 

Might share in the glory 

Of Russia freed! 

O that a grateful people, 

From every jubilant steeple, 

Might fling their praise 

On every wind 

To all mankind! 

In proud forefeeling of that ample day 

Our confident hearts exult and say: 

O people of the Untried Dream, 'God speed!' 



XI 



What means this dark and treacherous hint 
That Russia's voice shall be stifled yet ? 
Does he who promised without stint, 
(His son upon a stable throne to set, 
And quell rebellion and insurgent hate 
And spare himself a tyrant's luckless fate,) 
Of his imperial and unchanging will, 
To make her counsels henceforth law supreme. 
Does he, forsooth, because his Cossacks still 
With brethren's blood intoxicated kill. 
Presume to reinstate the old regime ? 



30 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 

Audacity beyond the world's belief 

And perfidy — God bring him soon to grief 

Whose counsel turns the promise to a lie\ 

The Romanoff's hard fate it is to try 

His subjects' all too fond fidelity 

Beyond endurance. May their will be sped, 

And God preserve him lest he lose his head! 

Once more the stern old lesson has been taught 

That freedom but by vigilance is bought. 

O Russia, be no longer duped and fooled, 

But say, the right to rule lies with the ruled, 

And saying, dare maintain the mighty truth. 

And seal it with your blood, if needs must be 

That tyrants choose the sword's arbitrament 

To urge in mad despair the outworn plea 

Of right divine to rule the brave and free. 

O rise and smite and prove in very sooth 

That ye are men for any argument. , 

So long as Caesar gives you liberty, 

So long his royal gift may be withdrawn 

To please a courtier's whimsy or his own, 

And ye are free — to bear his tyranny! 

But if ye take it with the hand of power 

'Tis yours forever and your children's dower! 



ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 31 
XII 

At last, ye patience-tried, at last 

The night of the will-o'-the-wisp is past. 

Ye know him now for what he was and is, 

The plaything of the awful destinies! 

He doffs the imperial mask with his own hand 

And shows his face, that all may understand 

His utter scorn of Russia's hopes and prayers. 

Behold a weakling toiling in the snares 
Of greedy faction, hurled from act to act 
By base intrigue whose hand is never slacked, 
A royal shuttle-cock beat to and fro 
'Twixt mortal fear and timid confidence, 
An ermined coward trembling at the blow 
That soon shall end his purple impotence! 
Or, if not weakling, then behold a foe, 
With sops of lies to keep you in suspense 
Until his thunders can be forged anew 
To hurl Promethean doom on yours and you! 

He calls your leaders into parliament 
To be his eyes and hands — the instrument 
Of his unchanging grace — to see your need 
And execute your will with seemly speed. 



32 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 

And vows, henceforth no law shall be decreed 
But by their prescient voices freely given. 
Your bonds, O mighty people, now are riven! 

Alas! The cloven hoof of despotism 

Is boldly thrust from out the ermine's fold. 

The sightless demon of imperialism 

Refuses to release his blighting hold 

On Russia's bleeding throat. Too late, too late, 

O Czar, thy manifest shall prove thy fate! 

Canst thou prorogue a people's parliament ? 
Canst thou alone decree the empire's laws ? 
Canst thou defeat a people's high intent 
And render null and void each several clause 
That guarantees their freedom ? Canst thou make 
And unmake councils, courts, and cabinets ? 
Thy creatures thwart the people's will and break 
Each several pledge ? Thy cunning hand abets 
This monstrous deed, this most colossal crime 
Of throttling a new birth of laggard Time ? 
Throw down the gauntlet! They shall take it up. 
And when thou drinkest wine again, red blood shall 
fill the cup. 

_ m 

The English Stuart was a babe in craft, 



ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE ss 

A tyro in the arts of perfidy. 
O had young Russia drunk a healing draught 
From England's gushing springs of liberty, 
She too had risen in time of utmost need 
And fought long since her gallant Runnymede! 
She too would rise again in conscious might 
And bare her mighty arm her foe to smite, 
And call her waiting Cromwell from the plow 
To guide her destiny and save her now. 

O shall it be in vain, that Freedom's dream 
Betokened sunrise ? Shall the hour supreme, 
The vital need a puny people find, 
A race unworthy of the task assigned ? 



XIII 

Not in a day, 

O not in a day good friends, 

The victorious struggle ends, 

Nor ever may 

Till Freedom and Right 

Are Law and Might 

Throughout the land. 



34 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 

O not in a day, 

Not in a day, good friends, 

The destined conflict ends, 

But through long failure and defeat 

The victor's crown is made more sweet, 

Its touch more bland 

To patriot brows! 
Long be the struggle, sweet the patriot's rest, , 
When victory comes to the oppressed, 
When hate is quenched within the subject's breast 

As the tyrant cows, 

And the victor can be just 

To fallen crownless dust. 



XIV 

The pregnant moment nears, 

Heavy with hopes and fears. 

That shall thrill the world to cheers 

Or loosen a chorus of sneers. 

All eyes are strained to watch. 

All ears are bent to catch, 

The first swift sign of kindling light, 

The first prophetic word of might. 

If any dreamed that like a sluggish beast 



ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 35 

The patient Russ would sleep beneath the lash, 

His foolish dream is broken 

By the potent word now spoken. 

From Finland to the utmost East, 

From arctic seas to Euxine's sunny shore 

Hath passed that elemental flash 

Of mighty hope, and tyranny shall be no more. 

Come together, ye brave elect. 
Charged with powers to build a realm 
Higher than party and broader than sect, 
That storms of fate shall not overwhelm. 

Come to your old historic hall. 
Scholar and artisan, peasant and prince, 
Come to answer your people's call 
With courage Caesar to convince 
That fate stands garbed as a citizen. 
Speak with sober might like men 
Who know their duty, and knowing dare 
To royal ears the truth declare. 

And when your imperial Peeping Tom 
With eye alarmed peeps through some chink, 
Let him behold you grave and calm. 
Like men who nobly act and think 
With heart set singly on stable good. 



36 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 

Far-looking peace for the multitude. 

And if his startled ear is held 

To hear fate's syllables outspelled 

By prophet Hps, perchance impelled 

To ghastly martyrdom, O let him hear 

The people's mandate, void of fear. 

Speak loud that he may catch the note 

Above the clamors of Reaction's throat 

That bawls incessant in baffled rage 

To drown the voice of Freedom's host. 

Democracy, throw down thy gage 

And dare all Hell into the Hsts! 

The day is thine whate'er the cost. 

And dawnhght breaking through the mists 

Will show God's recompense for what was lost. 

And if his Cossacks summon at the door 
To quench thy light forevermore. 
Remember to what end thy seers were sent! 
Our English Charles once had a parliament! 



XV 

Not yet, alas! not yet 

The sun of tyranny is set. 

The twilight gathers round the throne, 



ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 37 

But when the hour of night comes on 
What prophet dare predict the dawn ? 

" Somewhat have I against thee, too," 
The apocalyptic angel saith: 
" I know thy works, what thou wouldst do, 
I know thy hopes, the tangled clue 
Thou seekest in this night of dread. 
Behold, thou seekest only bread! 
And when thy starving sons are fed. 
Canst thou with sweet abundance filled 
Still strike for freedom with holy passion, 
For her still burn with quenchless zeal. 
Still struggle valiantly to fashion 
The bulwarks of the commonweal. 
To consummate what thou hast willed ? 

Thou wouldst be free! Then be indeed! 
All men will waft thee fairest speed. 
The bondage of thy ancient faith 
Cast off as gyves, ere thou indue 
The sacred vestments of the free! 
Some loftier vision of God must shake 
Thy soul to inner freedom ere thou wake 
To see how arduous Freedom's rites, 
How jealous and how stern is she. 



38 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 

How swift she helps, how sure she smites 
When to her altars men are true. 
No land can live half bond, half free, 
In bond to mitre, freed from crown, 
When crown and mitre needs must be 
The symbol of God's firm unity! 
Then cast the double despot down! 

God speaks no more through crowned kings, 
And mitered priests, of sacred things. 
He dwells in every conscious soul, 
He speaks by word. He works by deed 
To fashion worlds, to stake their goal, 
And nations to His purpose lead. 

Thou wouldst be free ? Then be indeed! 
God speaks not through anointed kings 
And priests, and yet of sacred things 
He speaks, and blessed they who hear 
And answer to His summons clear. 
Yet some there be among thy sons 
Who deem that law is freedom's foe! 
Behold, for these no fresh hopes glow. 
No thread of gold and purple runs 
In splendor through the web of life. 
But ever with God and fate at strife. 



ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 39 

So doomed in sad futility 
To chafe in bonds they cannot break, 
To feel a thirst they cannot slake. 
They dash their strength incessantly 
Against the granite of the crag, 
With hearts that never faint or flag 
In false rebellion counted liberty! 

Thou swearest loud, thou wouldst be free, 

And yet thou canst not clearly see 

A brother in the ancient race 

Whose loins brought forth the saintly one 

Whose martyred days so swiftly run 

For love's sweet sake in Galilee, 

But spittest in his guiltless face. 

And plottest horrors of blood and shame 

Beyond the tongue of man to name! 

Thou wouldst be free ? Then be indeed! 
The hearts of distant peoples plead. 
Crush out that black drop from thy blood. 
That life's red tide of love may flood 
Thy civic heart and wholly cleanse 
That fen of blight and pestilence!" 



40 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 

O speed the light to those in night! 
Turn beasts of burden into men, 
And our best hopes shall burn again, 
Our faith shall turn at last to sight. 

Not yet, alas! not yet 

The sun of tyranny is set, 

But swift as doom 

The deepest gloom 

Shall whiten into radiant dawn! 

Somehow, sometime, 

If thou but dare, 

As sure as God's will marches on 

Triumphant still in every clime. 

Thy future olgry shall fulfill our prayer! 



XVI 

God's march across the ages 

Is sometimes marked with blood. 

When righteous battle rages 

For Freedom and the trampled Right, 

There God stands in His ample might 
To bless the purple flood. 



ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 41 

God's march across the ages 

Is sometimes marked with scourge. 
But where His spirit rages 
In ocean-swell, in earthquake lift, 
In tempest shock, or plague's unthrift, 

We feel His upward urge. 

God marches through the ages, 

His march is evolution. 
But when the tyrant rages, 
And sets his hand against God's will, 
To thwart His providence, lo! still 

His name is REVOLUTION! 



